Macbeth - School AU
by wondrouslywithered
Summary: Have you ever found yourself wondering what the characters of Macbeth would be doing if they'd been born a couple hundred years later? No? I figured - that's why I had the *brilliant* idea to write this. You ask yourself why, why did you have to do this? I wish I could tell you but I don't quite know myself :) Have fun reading ;-;
1. Chapter 1 Ambition dies in school

p class="MsoNormal"span style="text-decoration: underline;"span lang="EN-GB"Chapter One:/span/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB"Macbeth was not the type of person you'd expect to attend St. Fife's Boarding School of Excellence and Eloquence. He did anyway, due to his rich parents, who were Mayor and Mayoress of Glamis, but even they didn't make him fit in any better. It was true, that Macbeth would've much rather been born on a battlefield, with a sword in his hand instead of a ruler, and where he didn't have to learn about Fermat's Last Theorem or emwhatever the hell/em the teachers were attempting to teach him. Indeed, Macbeth was someone who could complain about emanything /emand was probably capable of procrastinating on his own life. That, and his overwhelming incapability to emshut up./em/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB""You should've seen his face Banquo! That absolute emass/em! We were analysing the language in Chapter 3 of 'The Eighth Red' and obviously I wrote the best essay in the class on that junk, and then thatem prick /emMacduff decides emhe/em knows the story way better than I do, puts his hand up, shares emmy /empoint with the rest of the class and then gets all the credit for the idea I came up with emfirst/em. I tell you Banquo, school's the place where ambition dies. I'mem so done./em "/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB"Macbeth was slumped across his bed in Room 282, various textbooks strewn across the floor and the contents of his pencil case exploding onto his already tormented desk. Macbeth was not known for his tidiness; even his mind was cluttered it seemed./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB""You shouldn't let him bug you Mac. After all – you won't be around when that poor joke of an English pupil has to take his end of years and he'll have no teacher to be the pet of. Think about that!" the words came from the boy sitting on the bed opposite him, his nose buried in a textbook and his hand occupied by a small mug of tea. It was, undoubtedly, Banquo, not just because the two were roommates but also because he was the only known person in the universe who could put up with Macbeth's endless rants. Banquo was a solid ½ foot smaller than his companion and the sort of person who would rather sit at home with a good slice of literature and a cup full of revision than chase a football across a field screaming in the height of March. /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB""Yeah, but it'll never wipe the smug smile off his ugly face. I swear the damn thing never leaves. It's the only emotion he conveys!"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB""You really need to take a break Mac," Banquo replied calmly, taking a sip of his tea and turning a page in his book, "I doubt Macduff spends as much time obsessing over what you've done."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB""I emam not /emobsessing." Macbeth protested, sitting up a little "I am very clearly complaining because what he's done is emwrong/em and I can't sit here and let him get away with all this bull- "/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB""Mac," Banquo sighed, cutting off his curses. He stood up and put his mug of tea, still half full on the desk. The stain from the bottom of the mug leaked onto the forgotten papers beneath, "you really need to give it a rest for once. Wanna grab some dinner? It might make you feel better."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB"In response, Macbeth sat up groaning "Yeah, whatever, but I have a headache so don't expect me to cheer up."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB"Banquo sighed. It was going to be a long week./span/p 


	2. Chapter 2 Lunch Break

"Y'know what Banquo? I think m'gonna take up fencing. Always loved the idea of having a sword in my hand, y'get me?"

Despite his protests, Macbeth seemed to have cheered up considerably, especially now as he was shoving forkfuls of steak pie into his mouth.

"You realise you don't use swords in fencing, don't you? You'll end up with a foil – good luck trying to stab anyone with that, or whatever you're planning." Banquo was sitting opposite him at the table, his plate untouched.

"Still, Macduff wouldn't be so high 'n' mighty if he had a sabre through his eye" Macbeth said, his mouth still full, miming thrusting a foil through Macduff's smirking demeanour.

"You've been awfully violent minded this week Mac – you really need to stop hanging out with Lady Bethany. I fear she's rubbing off on you."

"Who, Beth? Nah. 'Sides, what could a girl teach me about violence? I suppose you think she'll teach me how to slaughter with 6-inch-heels on, ha, like that's a thing," he mocked.

"I dunno, she seems a little…off to me."

"Eh, you get used to it. Even I have and I don't see her that much."

"Mac you hang out with her all the time. Even when you promise it'll just be us two, she'll be there. Don't you find that strange?"

"Not really," Macbeth replied after a pausing to think for a second, "Why? You jealous or something?"

"What? No! I just think…" His sentence didn't seem to have an end. He knew Macbeth was just joking, but he couldn't help feeling something in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he _was_ jealous. "It's not like that Mac. I just want you to be careful who you're around. That's all."

"M'kay. Whatever you say. Still, I'm not gonna blank her so suddenly, that'd be plain rude. You gonna eat the rest of your pie there?"

"No," Banquo replied a little distantly, obviously deep in though "you can have it."


End file.
